


Jag älskar dig // Volim te

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Competition, Cuddling & Snuggling, Defeat, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Languages, M/M, Victory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24675658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: Under the stage lights, everything is harsh. There is no comfort. There can be no weakness.But in the quiet atmosphere of a hotel room, they can trust everything to each other's loving, gentle hands.
Relationships: Martin "Rekkles" Larsson/Luka "PerkZ" Perković
Kudos: 30





	Jag älskar dig // Volim te

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this last year! after the summer finals... ;-;  
> enjoy!

The stage is set. Lights and decorative lasers dance over the stadium. Beneath the haze of machine-made fog and Athenian chatter, old kings and new kings prepare to wage war. Tomorrow, the city shall bustle and the arena will fill with masses all watching eagerly as titans clash, sword against spear, steel clanging against steel, magic lighting the air with electricity, mice and keyboards and computers clicking and whirring away.

But first, cuddles.

“I love you,” Luka murmurs gently. His fingers play with soft, blonde hair and the hem of a well-worn, black shirt as he kisses his lover’s cheek softly, delicately, carefully.

Only one king’s coronation awaits on the morrow. Luka hopes with all his willpower that it is he who might hold the new crown.

“Love you too,” his boyfriend of several years whispers into his ear. Lean but strong arms hug him tightly and the sheets cover their bodies in so many layers of soft, fluffy down, protecting them from the harsher reality of The Stage and keeping them warm with each other’s body heat.

Only one king’s coronation awaits on the morrow. Luka in his heart of hearts isn’t sure who he wants to reign victorious.

“No matter what, right?” he asks, no matter how pitiful it sounds, “no matter who wins, right?”

“Of course, älskling, I promise.”

Luka’s worried frown fades into a sweetened smile accompanied by musical giggles. “Thank you. _Je... jag elski dig?_ Did I say it right?”

“Almost. _Jag älskar dig.”_

And the green-eyed Swede seals it with a kiss.

\---

The crown and its spoils rest atop Luka’s head and around his neck, and Martin’s tears spoil any sort of joy Luka feels in the moment. His face looks so pinched and in pain. His hands shake with the force of his exertion and exhaustion.

Luka would give so, so much to be able to hold Martin close and comfort him, but there are too many eyes, and Broxah’s arms are already around Luka’s boyfriend, and all Luka can even attempt to do is hug Martin reassuringly.

Not even the right words come to him.

“ ‘S okay,” Martin whispers, the sound nearly drowning in the din of the crowd but Luka’s ears able to hear Martin always, no matter what. Luka squeezes him a bit tighter.

Later that night, after the after-party that is almost mandatory at this point no matter how much Luka wants to steal away to his boyfriend’s hopefully-loving arms, after what feels like an eternity of Rasmus clinging to Wunder-Martin’s arm, after too many drinks are had by the rest and not one by Luka who gets sober off of the image of his beloved’s anguish, after all the tedious celebratory formalities have been endured, Luka returns to the hotel room he and Martin have been sharing.

“Hey,” murmurs a pretty face with sad green eyes.

“Hey,” murmurs an acne-pocked face with sad hazel eyes. Luka wants so badly to comfort his boyfriend, to let him know that everything is okay, that they’re still in love and happy and okay.

Not even the right words come to him.

With a tiny bit of struggle, though, the kind that comes from laying outstretched for a few minutes too long, Martin sits up on the bed and replaces his bookmark in his book, opening up the neatly-arranged blankets for Luka to slip under with him. A moment passes for Luka to change out of his jersey before cuddling Martin close, grateful for the lack of change in who they are. “Read to me,” Martin demands in a soft, quiet mumble, nudging the book into Luka’s hands. His arms wrap around Luka’s whole body, and Luka sighs in appreciation.

“Isn’t Game of Thrones a little dark for bed-reading?” he teases.

“Please?” 

Ah, Luka could never say no to those jewel-green eyes. Obligingly he reads on through each fight, each deception, each cruelty... “I can’t read any more. Do you have any of the cutesy books? Boy meets boy, they fall in love... that sort of thing?”

Martin nods and mumbles directions to a pocket in his backpack, the one thankfully splayed across the nightstand, and Luka draws it out with a sigh of relief before opening it to the bookmark and reading some of the much lighter fare that has him and his boyfriend giggling and snuggling and nuzzling each other.

A while goes by before Luka realises that Martin’s eyes are shut and his breathing steady. He then sets aside the book, neatly marking it how Martin likes, and kisses Martin’s cute button nose. Luka then begins the difficult task of lying down in bed whilst Martin’s arms remain fixed about his waist, though he manages it after some time and patience, and he readjusts Martin’s arms once he’s done so that Martin can hug him as tightly as he likes.

_“V’m te,”_ Martin mumbles through sleep and exhaustion.

_“Volim te,”_ Luka whispers with a lovestruck smile on his face.

And the hazel-eyed Croat seals it with a kiss.


End file.
